


In a City Filled with Fantastics

by WreckItRhino



Series: Hindsight Universe [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Coon and Friends AU, Gen Fic, Hindsight Universe, It's a city ruined by superhumans, South Park isn't a small town in the mountains, kind of like an infamous/suicide risk kind of vibe going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 02:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10935090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreckItRhino/pseuds/WreckItRhino
Summary: Officers Marsh and Broflovski were hoping for some action during their midnight patrol after days of criminal inactivity but with Sgt. Bedlam on the loose they might regret getting what they desire.





	1. It's Late. All We Wanted to do Was Catch Some Taggers, but Here We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Officers Marsh and Broflovski were hoping for some action during their midnight patrol after days of criminal inactivity. It's too bad they got what they asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this fanfic to kickoff this series for months and I finally have something to show for it. In a City Filled with Fantastics is the first one-shot that's part of a series I like to call the Hindsight Universe. The Hindsight Universe is an AU where South Park is a city terrorized by Professor Chaos and those working for him; however, other villains besides the big baddies do exist. Basically this series will allow me to explore and commentate on the superhuman archetype as I see fit.
> 
> I tried implementing slang used by police officers and what not, so forgive me if it's wrong. I don't watch nearly enough cop shows, etc. to write it perfectly. I'll provide a translation at the very end. I stole them from a cop blog post and stole them from a code system used by Denver police.

Harbucks Coffee was the only coffeehouse for miles that served a decent cup of java. One would think that with a city as large as South Park another would exist within its vicinity to compensate for the overtaxed population, but that, unfortunately, was not the case.

Stan was standing next to Kyle waiting on what was probably the world’s most expensive mocha. Initially they stood with quiet ease, simply taking in the calm atmosphere the shop always provided this late at night. Tiny sounds iterated throughout the building, as if it were humming a tune just for him. Unlike most of the city, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

A fire was blazing in the corner of the store. Its fireplace was surrounded by a random array of cushioned armchairs, all of which were empty except for the furthermost seat from the entrance. A customer was typing something out on his laptop with fervor. Occasionally he would pause to take a sip of his drink or pull at his chullo in frustration over something he was writing. Kyle and Stan would almost always see him there before their shift officially started, though they didn’t know his name. 

His eyes roamed back to Pete, the only employee that ever seemed to work the nightshift. He, as per usual, prepared their drinks with the energy of a sloth, clearly unhappy to even be here. Stan was always sure to tip him, despite how rude he was towards all of the customers. It was the least he could do for an old classmate. 

A sudden nudge to the shoulder grabbed his attention. “Ready for tonight?” Kyle asked, raising a red brow with practiced ease.

“I will be once I get some caffeine in me.”

“Do you think anything exciting will happen? Our last few shifts have been pretty quiet. We’re bound to get something.” Before Stan could provide a proper response, Kyle brandished a newspaper he’d taken interest in during their wait, pointing at the headline with his other hand. “South Park Times just reported five new tag sites. I’m surprised the chief hadn’t told us about this before we went on patrol.”

He grabbed the offered paper and quickly skimmed the piece. “You suggesting we change our route and patrol along the South Platte River, instead?” He murmured.

“Can’t hurt to see if there’s anyone loitering around.” The police force still had yet to catch the perpetrator despite how much effort they’ve put into their search. “We’ll swing by after we go down Honey Creek Drive.” Both Stan’s mocha and Kyle’s black coffee were then set down with wordless disinterest from Pete, which prompted the two to pick up their order. 

With both coffees in hand, the two police officers walked casually to their squad car.

“You okay?” Kyle glanced at his partner once the engine started. 

“Yeah. It just takes a bit to adjust to the noise. It’s always quieter in a building than in the streets.” Stan attempted to rub away the migraine he could feel developing.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Stan snorted. “No shit.”

They pulled out into the city. Every so often, they would pass by a wall stained by bright yellow paint, giving them a glimpse of one of the many tags that have been scattered throughout South Park. These ones were of no interest at the moment, however. They were created weeks ago and no longer showed signs of any potential activity.

“Has anyone figured out what they are yet?” Stan blinked. “The tags, I mean.”

“No. Bebe speculates that it might be gang-related but I don’t think that’s necessarily the case.” Kyle turned a corner. His route was unhindered by any red lights, as per usual.

“And why’s that?”

“There’s been a rumor going around about a person who goes by the name ‘Overseer’. People have been saying that they’re the next Fantastic to don a costume. Could be related to Professor Chaos but, these days, you never know. They could be operating solo.”

“If they’re anything like Sergeant Bedlam or Hellraiser than this city is fucked.”

“Who says it already isn’t?” Stan shut his mouth at that. He had a point.

They continued on in relative silence.

They came to a stop along the side of the road not far from the South Platte bridge. Stan locked the car without a second thought once they exited the vehicle. They were both on high alert, hands ready to pull out a weapon if need be. “It should be just under the bridge.”

The sidewalk strayed from its path along the roadways, leading to a staircase that descended towards the river forming a path that bypassed the crosswalk. A perfect place for taggers to duck in, paint, and get out with little to no detection once the streets were cleared. The waters lapped at the sides of the concrete walls drowning out whatever noises Stan could hear in the distance. Underneath the bridge it was musty and what walls existed were mostly covered in ivy except for a patch ripped out to make room for a message: A yellow circle rested behind the image of a monochromatic alien. It was a modified version of the classic alien design, except that one of its bulging eyes was larger than the other, it sported two crooked antennae on the top of its head, and a thin coat of drool leaking out of its black lips.

“Weird, isn’t it? They’re everywhere but no one seems to know what they mean.” 

Stan ran his hand against the wall, testing to see if the paint was wet or not even though, logically, he knew it should be dry. “Feels almost like they’re advertising something.”

“Well, if they are they’re doing a shit job at it.” Kyle looked down the course of the river deep in thought, “Nevertheless, we should probably tell Bebe that idea. It’s not a completely terrible theory.” Kyle deserved the light smack Stan gave his arm for that one. 

The noise around him shifted. Stan looked down at the radio attached to his belt right before it activated, _“Attention all units, we’ve got a 10-31 at the History Museum with a 10-32, specifically StB. 10-60 will need to respond to the museum. Code 10 on channel 1. Proceed with caution.”_

“Shit.” The two of them abandoned their post at the South Platte bridge and booked it for their car, its engine starting before they could even set foot in the vehicle. The lights and sirens kicked off and their car went en route to the History Museum that was located downtown, which was about 10 minutes away from where they were now.

“When I said I wanted something exciting to happen I didn’t mean for Sergeant Bedlam to be testing out his new arsenal.” Kyle’s fingers gripped tightly around the wheel indicating his growing frustrations. His anger bled into his driving skills making him much more reckless than usual. It was a good thing Stan ensured their route would be car free otherwise he’d fear that a potential accident would occur.

“At least it’s during the graveyard shift. Less people we have to worry about.” This only made Kyle’s knuckles whiten even more at the increased pressure. Regardless of what time it was, people were going to die whenever Sergeant Bedlam was involved. Stan should have just kept his mouth shut.

Upon their arrival, they issued out a quick Code 11 to let the person in charge know they’ve arrived on the scene. Police and SWAT cars were staggered haphazardly around the entrance of the museum. “Broflovski, Marsh get over here.”

“What’s the situation?” Kyle asked their boss, jaw tight upon their approach.

“Good. Bedlam’s on the north side of the building, specifically in the World War II exhibits if our intel is correct.” Bebe gazed at the building long and hard. “Our forces won’t be enough . That’s where you come in. Remember our last incident with StB? We’re going to need you to lead the front. Do your thing, but don’t fuck around. We’re a precinct not a playground.”

“Copy that. Should we go in now?” Stan could already start to feel the wind pick up around him. 

“Affirmative. I’ll send in a second wave to back you up shortly. Keep your radios on for further instructions.” She waved them off before barking orders at the remaining troops.

Stan and Kyle exchanged a look before they immediately headed towards the building. “Are the front doors locked?”

“Not anymore.” The door swung open slowly. Kyle made a face at him. “Don’t give me that. This building’s handicap accessible. Less doors we have to manually open.”

“Fair.”

The intimidating sound of an emptying chamber of a gun echoed throughout the marble building. The two pressed forward.

“You’ll have to lead. I have no idea where any of the exhibits are.” Stan admitted. Quite frankly he hadn’t stepped foot in a museum since he graduated high school.

“You’re lucky David and I came here last week,” Kyle began, jutting his chin to the right. “Follow me.” 

They proceeded cautiously, only stopping once when they had come across a body curled up on the floor, flecks of blood trailed from the victim’s mouth. Stan checked his pulse and shook his head after a couple of seconds. “We’re going to need a 10-52.” 

_“Copy that.”_

Both guns drawn and prepped for their oncoming target, they pushed forward. The exhibit was close, much closer than they had anticipated. “Is that music?”

“Yep. Want me to turn it off?” Stan prepared to pull the strings to do just that.

“No need. It’ll cover up our footsteps.” Stan nodded in response. “Broflovski and Marsh approaching the suspect now.”

_“Copy. Second wave en route.”_

They slunk up to the sides of the entrance, peering in. Two pillars were erected on either side; a display case rested a few feet past it and through the glass a figure could be seen moving about. Wordlessly they took advantage of the pillar structures, using them as cover to get a better look at their opponent.

Their target stood, humming along to an old WWII song that emitted from the portable record player placed neatly beside him. Stan couldn't recognize the old tune, but its upbeat qualities amplified the shiver of terror that traveled up his spine. Sergeant Bedlam burst into song, belting out two lines as he shot haphazardly at the array of mannequins set up before him, five of which had hostages tied to them. Of those that were conscious Stan could hear muffled screams asking for help, to let them go, to not kill them.

Although he couldn’t differentiate between the weaponry Bedlam was storing close by, Stan was able to determine that Sergeant Bedlam had a multitude of guns available to him. He pointed at Bedlam then mimed his hand into the shape of a gun, hoping his partner would understand what he was attempting to get across non-verbally. 

Kyle nodded and raised his left hand, mouthing “We go on three.” Every second that passed, a finger was presented. 

On three, they took a step out from behind their cover, pistols raised and aimed at the Fantastic before them. Kyle shouted in the most authoritative voice he could muster, “You are under arrest. Drop your weapon and put your hands up where we can see them.”

“Ah, hello there chaps. Fine night we’re having, aren’t we? Oh, don’t mind me. Just making sure none of these are bodged. Can’t sell a faulty weapon, now can we?” They could make out Sergeant Bedlam’s thick british accent despite how his gas mask distorted the clarity of his voice. He shot to the left of himself, managing to aim a bullet through the head of a mannequin. Stan wasn't sure if it was intentional or not. One of the hostages let out a muffled sob. “Best you clear off. Now’s not a good time.”

“If you fail to obey, we won’t hesitate to shoot.” Stan cocked his gun to emphasize his point.

“There’s no need to be so hostile. Why don’t you two sit down and take a long rest?” Bedlam redirected his aim towards Stan, pulling the trigger only for it to jam. No one moved.

“Well, aren’t you jammy, officer?” 

Both of their guns fired immediately. The Fantastic tossed a small round object behind his shoulder as he vaulted into the landing boat displayed behind him. They immediately ceased fire, alarmed. Kyle shouted something unintelligible as a gust of wind burst through the room lobbing the object to the opposite wall away from them. It was a grenade from the exhibit, the pin still intact.

“Oh good! You’re just like me!” Bedlam now had two guns in his hands, one pointed at each of them. 

“Broflovski, Marsh!” Joining their ranks and flanking Bedlam from retreat was the second wave, coming in from the alternative entrance of this portion of the museum. The men were heavily armed. Unplanned but fortunate for them. 

“And you brought friends? How lovely! I wish you would have told me.” He redirected the aim of the gun that had been pointed at Stan, immediately firing it at their men but again it jammed before it could fire a round. “I could have invited some of my own mates. We could have made a party out of this!” He tried firing his other MP5 only for it to jam again. “Oh, bugger.”

Bedlam ducked down into the landing boat just as their men took fire. A thick green cloud of smoke had begun to emit from the top of the display Bedlam was hiding out in. The hostages in its immediate range started to gag from the suffocating fumes. And just when things seemed like they couldn’t get chaotic enough, the glass ceiling above them shattered and an unwanted party joined their ranks. Almost all of the police force released their magazines into the unfortunate individual that interrupted the fight taking place.

The newcomer collapsed into the boat with a sickening thud. The smoke continued to rise. Silence filled the room.

__

_“What the hell was that Marsh?”_ Bebe’s voice cried out from his radio.

“A vigilante tried to intervene. Someone set off a chain reaction shortly after he went through the roof.”

_“Poor bastard.”_

“Don’t let a dead body ruin your fun.” Bedlam jumped out of the boat using Mysterion’s body as a shield from the oncoming bullets, taking advantage of the fact that half their rank was still in the process of reloading their guns. The steel drum, now strapped to his back, also acted as a buffer against their violence. The Fantastic glanced in Stan and Kyle’s direction before pulling the trigger of the gas nozzle towards their men, coating them in a thick cloud of the same green smoke that had billowed out of the landing boat not much earlier.

Men collapsed left and right once the fumes were inhaled, gagging and retching. They couldn’t see. They couldn’t breathe. “Retreat!”

Wind swept the gas back towards Sergeant Bedlam and concentrated it around the Fantastic. Stan glanced at Kyle whose arms were spread out in front of him, sweat beading down his face at the immense amount of energy it required to perform the task he was attempting.

“Shame.” Bedlam dropped the nozzle and, with one swift motion, right as Stan was about to pull the trigger, he released multiple orbs from inside his sleeves onto the floor. Smoke immediately billowed out from them upon impact, spreading the substance around the room at an alarming rate. Kyle was helpless to do a thing about it. He was already at his limit. Those able to move retreated into the halls.

Without hesitation, Stan ripped at every connection he could find. Every door within the building that had an electrical connection opened at once. He stumbled forward, almost falling to his knees if it were not for Kyle. His partner grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the exit they had seen when they had initially approached the WWII exhibit. Weak winds sailed around them, willing what gas it could sweep up to exit via the broken ceiling.

They fell to their knees as soon as they reached the alley out back. The sheer exertion it took to use their abilities to that extent finally caught up with them. But the nightmare wasn’t over. Without Kyle’s control of the airflow surrounding them, green smoke billowed out the back entrance they had come from, thick and suffocating. They crawled further away from it, hoping the fumes wouldn’t be able to reach where they were located.

And through the smoke came a nightmare. 

Stan instinctively aimed his gun at the Fantastic, ready to pull the trigger at the smallest sign of movement. “You are under arrest. Get on the ground and put your hands up where I can see them or I will shoot. This is your last chance.”

Sergeant Bedlam gave no response. He simply stared at him and Stan got this unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was like the man was simply staring through him as if he were part of the backdrop scenery, as if he weren’t threatening to fatally wound him.

This was the first time Stan had ever gotten to see the man up close, having only ever seen glimpses of him from ill-taken photographs that were featured in both the papers and around the police station. The man was tall, intimidatingly so. The only skin he could see that even indicated this being was human were his forearms, but even then they didn’t look right. They were discolored and mottled with purple, perspiring--no, oozing sweat from the strain of the faceoff.

It was no wonder the public was so afraid of Fantastics.

Pale, freckled hands grabbed Stan’s wrists and redirected his aim, catching Stan by surprise and nearly causing him to pull the trigger. The barrel of his gun was forcefully shoved into Kyle’s shoulder. 

“Dude, what are you doing?”

He received no response. Kyle simply stared at him with a glazed look in his eye. Something was clearly wrong. And that’s when Stan noticed the figure over Kyle’s shoulder standing at the end of the alleyway. “Hellraiser.”

The hairs on his arms stood up. This was not good. This was anything but good. Sergeant Bedlam was difficult enough to handle on his own, but him teamed up with Hellraiser? Stan and and Kyle were going to die. 

Hellraiser stood there, smiling cruelly at the two of them. His sharp smile was the only visible part of his face. No matter how hard Stan tried to focus, it was as if his brain refused to process the rest of his features. 

Silently, Hellraiser moved his mouth to form words Stan couldn’t make out. A voice in his head, Stan’s voice, began to panic: _“I have to shoot him. I have to shoot him. I have to shoot HIM. I have to SHOOT HIM. I HAVE TO SHOOT HIM.”_ The thought began as a quiet suggestion, but then soon grew louder and louder the more it repeated itself over and over again, and Stan couldn’t ignore it. His finger moved on its own accord and the trigger was pulled.

The sound of his gun rang out followed shortly by a scream.

By the time Stan’s eyes could focus again, both Sergeant Bedlam and Hellraiser were gone. All that was left was the gun in his hand and the downed body of his partner as his shoulder bled out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song alluded to during the WWII exhibit scene: "Bless 'Em All" by Vera Lynn.  
> Specifically the two lines "Cause we’re saying goodbye to them all, as back to their billets they crawl! You’ll get no promotion this side of the ocean, so cheer up my lads, bless ‘em all!”
> 
> Police Terms:  
> StB => short for Sergeant Bedlam.  
> 10-31: Crime in progress  
> 10-32: Man with gun  
> 10-60: Squad in vicinity  
> 10-52: Ambulance needed.  
> Code 10 on channel 1: Only officers responding to StB should speak on this channel.  
> Code 11: I've arrived on Scene


	2. The Bad News: People are Dead. The Good News: At least this Paper is Ad Free.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The results of last nights events as told by the South Park Times.

**16 People Dead and Sergeant Bedlam Still Walks Free**

By Jimmy Valmer  
Photo taken by Craig Tucker  
 __

_Tragedy has struck the city of South Park once again by the hands of Sergeant Bedlam, a suspected henchman of the infamous Professor Chaos. At approximately 1 AM this morning, Sergeant Bedlam broke into South Park’s History Museum. All of the employees in the building were either killed upon sight or taken hostage in the WWII exhibit where police suspect that he had been using the hostages as target practice._

_The police that arrived at the site of the crime formed two squads that surrounded Sergeant Bedlam on two fronts; however, with the use of his toxic fumes, he managed to escape. “Without gas masks, no one could risk staying in that room. We had no choice but to retreat,” states one officer that was at the scene of the crime, who requested to remain anonymous. “If we continued to breathe in the fumes of whatever chemical weapon he had, we’d die minutes after exposure.” Because of Sergeant Bedlam, eight employees and four police officers were murdered._

_Hellraiser, the Fantastic thought to be responsible for all of the recent kidnappings and human-trafficking, was spotted on the site near the end of the confrontation between Sergeant Bedlam and the police. “I didn’t get a good look at him. I mean, it was dark and I didn’t get a good view, but I saw his signature coat and I noticed people acting oddly around him. The whole thing was horrible and I wish I never looked out my window when I heard gunshots,” states Heidi Turner, a witness who lives nearby the History Museum._

_The odd behavior Turner was describing most likely caused the deaths of three police officers stationed outside of the building and the hospitalization of two more. The witness told us that she saw one police officer shoot another officer. We suspect that Hellraiser used his coercive ability to force the officers to either shoot one another or shoot themselves; however, this is just speculation because the police refuse to provide a statement for these events._

_One of South Park’s many vigilantes apparently interfered with the arrest of Sergeant Bedlam. Bebe Stevens, South Park chief of police reported that Officer Stan Marsh communicated with her during combat regarding this: “Let this be an example to you vigilantes. Don’t interfere with the law. A vigilante tried just that and look where that ended: Our men shot them down during a tense situation because Bedlam had been actively attacking them at that point.”_

_However, when we interviewed Officer Marsh about this event, Officer Marsh reported he had no recollection of that occurring nor did any of the other surviving witnesses. They remembered a vigilante, vaguely, but not what happened to them, especially not that they died. Based off of our previous investigations, our team of journalists suspect it could very well have been Mysterion that intervened. Many witnesses that have come across Mysterion later report of having memory issues for reasons that most likely relate to a Fantastic ability. What that Fantastic ability is, witnesses and our team-alike aren’t sure._

_Stevens wants us to remind the public that Fantastics are dangerous and should not be confronted, especially if they show any display of aggression. Any and all Fantastics are to be reported to the police immediately. In addition, if you know of anyone that is actively helping either a vigilante or villain, especially one of Professor Chaos’s men, please report them to the police,as well. “The sooner we can get these Fantastics under control, the better.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of the story :)  
> What you liked and disliked about it so I can become a better writer.


End file.
